


Mask

by remanth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Archangel - Freeform, Mask, angel - Freeform, meta fiction, script
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 19:06:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1480705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remanth/pseuds/remanth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Metatron finds Gabriel and pulls him out of his hideaway for a plan of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mask

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for 9.18 Meta Fiction, so if you haven't seen that episode yet, I'd recommend you go watch it.

The moment I knew something was wrong was when I looked at that door. It was a red door with a brass number on it. It was... familiar but _wrong_ somehow. This wasn’t where I was supposed to be. A woman’s voice could be heard through the door, dimly as if she was speaking quietly to herself. And music overlaid it all. Music that finally answered where I was and I groaned. I looked down at myself and saw the familiar white shirt, red vest, and gold chain. A tickling on my upper lip told me I was wearing that ridiculous mustache that I’d enjoyed last time I’d ventured into this section of tv world. Rolling my eyes, I turned away from the door and started walking down the hallway. I don’t know who pulled me here or what they wanted but there was no way I was playing along.

When I was about halfway down the hallway, everything froze. Including me. I was in the middle of a step, one foot raised while the other was flat on the ground. I couldn’t even move my arms to help me keep my balance. There weren’t many things that could trap an archangel like this and the first flutters of fear flashed through me. What was going on here? Then an angel stepped out of one of the rooms, a smirk pulling at his lips. That made no sense either. Metatron was a lower order angel, one with so much less power than I had. How could he possibly have trapped me here?

“Hello, Gabriel,” Metatron said, leaning against the wall and studying me. I glared at him, trying to express my anger and frustration with my eyes alone. They were the only part of me that moved, tracking his movements. “How nice to see you again.”

“Metatron,” I replied when I felt the tension around my head ease. I tried to move my arms, finish my step but I was still stuck fast. What had happened since I’d let Lucifer think he’d killed me? “What’s going on here?”

“Well, dear brother, I’m sure you haven’t noticed but there’s been a re-ordering in Heaven,” Metatron replied with a satisfied gloat. He crossed his arms over his chest, smirk growing wider. “I’m God now. And you, you are going to be a player in my story. Play your part, wear your mask, and convince Castiel to play his own role.”

“And if I don’t?” I asked, sneering. How could a glorified secretary force me to do anything I didn’t want to do? Though, when I tried moving again, it crossed my mind that maybe he wasn’t quite a glorified secretary anymore. Metatron was far more powerful than he should have been. “What are you going to do? Write me a memo?”

“Not quite no,” Metatron replied, shaking his head and tsking as if I were being a particularly truculent child. Then he stood up straight, squaring his shoulders and staring at me as if looking down his nose. “I have the angel tablet, Gabriel. You remember when I wrote it for our Father? It has everything I might need to know about us on it and how to control us. Or how to create a Hell beyond anything you could possibly imagine. Play your part, brother, and I will let you go back to the little world you’d created for yourself. If not.... Well, let’s just say Lucifer’s not the only one’s who’s creative. And cruel.”

Metatron stepped forward and raised two fingers towards my forehead. I tilted my head as far back as I could, terror spiking through me. I knew about the angel tablet, knew what was on it because I had listened when it was written. Metatron could be about to do anything but there was nothing I could do. He just looked at me with a mixture of pity and anger in his eyes before pressing those two fingers to my forehead. Suddenly, a script flashed through my mind, my own parts highlighted. Sorrow and worry joined the terror as what had happened in the past few years became clear. I’d held myself completely aloof, hiding as deeply as I could in my own created world. Once it was over, Metatron stepped back and waved sarcastically at me before a white light obliterated my sight. Shaking my head as my eyes cleared, I could hear the music start up again. The red doorway met my eyes as I looked up and I could hear the woman speaking again inside.

This time, I knew Castiel was watching. I knew that Metatron had taken control of the tv in the room our brother was staying in and setting his plan in motion. My only choice was to play along. At least for now. I wasn’t the Trickster for nothing. While I had specific lines in the script Metatron had written, gestures and expressions were free game. Maybe Castiel had learned enough about humans and emotions that I could get a message through to him. But now wasn’t the time to worry about it. The door opened, showing a blond woman in glasses and not very many clothes. I slipped into the role easily, both Metatron’s and Casa Erotica’s. I didn’t need to be here very long anyways. Just long enough to catch Castiel’s attention.

“I need your help, brother,” I said seriously once I had popped out of the tv screen. _That_ was interesting. Metatron had given me enough freedom that I could do things on my own, appear to be the archangel I was. Though not nearly as powerful as I was normally. I had to pretend as if I was hurt in the fall, too. My clothes were different, which was a relief. While I enjoyed the clothing I wore for Casa Erotica, it had its place and that wasn’t here in the real world. I wore a comfortable pair of khaki pants, boots, a dark t-shirt, and a dark jacket. It was very Winchester-esque, which amused me.

Of course, Castiel was shocked to see me. Shocked and relieved at the same time. We headed out, intent on going back to this bunker little Cassie claimed those muttonheads had found. I was surprised to learn that he even knew how to drive, though I didn’t particularly enjoy sitting shotgun. Driving was just so _slow_. Though the drive left time for Metatron’s script to pour out of my mouth, trying to convince Castiel that he wasn’t a failure as he seemed to think. Much of my original witty personality came out in the words. While there was a script, even Metatron couldn’t write me exactly how I was. That left wiggle room. Whether it would be enough was a whole other question.

As I looked for the gas station I knew would be coming, I held back a sigh of frustration. The problem with the words I was saying was that they really were true. While Castiel had made mistakes (and really, which of us hadn’t?), he was different. Just like me. We fit in with humans better than our brothers and sisters. Maybe Dad made us that way and maybe it was something we learned. I guess it really doesn’t matter much where it came from so much as that it exists. And Castiel was a leader, whether he wished to believe it or not. Look at his battle with Raphael, how he’d pulled scores of angels to his side. _That_ I think, surprised me the most about the recap Metatron had given me. I never would have expected Castiel to deviate from the script that much. But meeting Dean Winchester and fighting for humanity had changed him. There’d always been a spark of rebellion in Castiel but it had always been controlled. Dean had fanned it into a full-blown bonfire.

“Aren’t you low on gas?” I sat, right on cue as the gas station rolled up. I knew a truck would be pulling in soon. Metatron meant for me to go down fighting, to give Castiel a reason to continue on and fight. I was never going to lead as I said. That was just to get Castiel moving in a direction Metatron wanted him to go. We headed inside and I started drooling over the variety of salty and sweet snacks that lined the shelves. I hadn’t had anything but created sweets in far too long and this was like a siren call to me. Even though it was basically a pocket world Metatron had taken from the real world. The props were all real, just not the players. Except for me and Castiel.

And speaking of players, here were the villains, right on time. Six angels hopped out of the truck, a blond woman striding determinedly in the front. Here was the tipping point, the reason Metatron had pulled me out of hiding. Now was the moment he wanted me to convince Castiel to take over from me since I would spend my last power here, holding back Metatron’s minions. It hurt to lie like this, lie to the one brother remaining that I could get along with. The one brother who might understand why I ran, why I stayed away, why I lost myself in a pagan god and humanity.

“You have to go,” I told Castiel urgently as his blade slid out of his sleeve. Having Castiel fight was _not_ in the script. “You know, I lied earlier. I still have some juice left. Enough to deal with these guys. You need to get out of here, take my place. Lead the angels and take down Metatron.”

“I’m no leader,” Castiel repeated yet again. It sounded as if he was half trying to convince himself of something he already knew. Maybe he was further along Metatron’s plans that I thought. That could be bad, considering the ending Metatron had written. But if there was anyone who could tear up that ending and write his own, it would be Castiel. “I’m not leaving you here.”

“Yes you are Castiel,” I said, turning to glare at Castiel as the blond woman kicked in the door. Castiel turned away, pulling open his coat to slide his blade back inside. “Go or we’re both going to die!”

“No, because you’re already dead,” Castiel said sadly, turning back and sliding his blade into my belly. Of course, it slid in without resistance and without doing damage. I was a shadow pulled here by Metatron, much as my consciousness might be me. “Was any of this real?”

I snapped and the attacking angels disappeared. I studied my brother, impressed despite myself. How had he figured it out, seen through Metatron’s plan? I hadn’t decided yet how I would twist the script, hadn’t found the freedom and time to give Castiel a sign. Maybe that didn’t matter so much now that he knew something wasn’t right. I could only hold my arms out in mock innocence and raise my eyebrow.

“Okay, you got me,” I said grandiosely, shifting on my feet. “None of this was actually real. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t the truth. You _need_ to lead the angels, Castiel. There’s no one else who can do it. You’re different, just like me brother. I know you don’t want this burden.”

“Thank you, Gabriel,” Castiel said, pulling me into a hug. It felt genuine and I had to blink back tears that threatened in my eyes. Even after this, Castiel was _thanking_ me?

“Shut up,” I replied, unable to keep the emotion fully out of my voice. I know he heard it, there was no way he could have missed it. I caught sight of my reflection in the glass of one of the freezers. My eyes looked dead, lost, and pained. I didn’t want to do this, though maybe it really had been what Castiel needed to hear. After all, one couldn’t take on too much power without going a little mad. Or a lot mad.

“Tell me one thing,” Castiel said as he backed away. “Are you really dead?”

There was hope in his voice, hope tempered with resignation. He knew how final death was for angels, knew where we went when we were killed. And Lucifer was the most powerful of us besides Michael. Here was my moment and I felt a bubble of laughter in my chest. I couldn’t let it show, though, couldn’t crow my delight to the heavens. That wasn’t in the script. But I could let him know. I didn’t answer, couldn’t answer as Metatron had written me no lines here before I disappeared. Yet I could, and did, wiggle my eyebrows as I’d done before when I had a secret and wanted others to know I had one. The widening of Castiel’s eyes was the last thing I saw before the gas station winked out of existence. And I knew my message had been received. He may not believe it but the seed was planted.

“Excellent job, Gabriel,” Metatron said, clapping me on the shoulder. I was frozen again, not even able to speak but I did glare at him. He might be an even bigger douchebag than Lucifer had been. “You played your part well and you get your reward. Go back to your little world and cower.”

Metatron waved a hand negligently, as if he had already dismissed me from his mind. I popped back into the room I’d left, my dog staring at me as if I’d grown an extra head. All he knew was that the bed we were lounging on had been empty for a time and I’d stopped petting him. As I ran my hand down his back and he settled down, I started making plans. Cower in my little world, indeed. I think it was time I stopped running, stopped wearing masks to hide from myself. This time, for real.


End file.
